Two months passed. The eight-year-old Ryker stood before Aiden, towering at an astonishing 5'11. His body was the epitome of perfection, sculpted through rigorous training and honed to its peak. Every muscle was defined and efficient, his physique radiating power and grace. His sharp, penetrating gaze—so different from before—carried a cutting edge, as though his very eyes could cleave through steel.
Ryker was garbed in a long crimson robe that bore golden, flame-like engravings, the intricate patterns shimmering faintly with a regal fire. The design mirrored Aiden's own robe, though his bore the Phoenix Clan's sigil. Together, father and son stood in solemnity—a perfect image of lineage and tradition.
Within Aiden's hands rested a golden scroll. It wasn't ordinary—its presence seemed to ripple through the air, distorting space in fleeting intervals. The air felt heavier, charged, as though the scroll itself carried an overwhelming authority.
"This scroll you see in my hand carries the Crimson Dominion Sword Technique," Aiden announced, his voice steady yet commanding. "There is little time left before you must depart for the Boot Camp. However, with your talent, I'm certain you can learn the first move of the technique." Aiden said as he handed the scroll to Ryker, his movements deliberate and respectful, offering it to him as though presenting a treasure.
Ryker accepted it with both hands, his posture filled with reverence. His face reflected a solemn determination as he spoke. "Father, is this the technique our ancestors derived from the original sword manual for Dragon's Edge?"
Aiden's lips curled into a slight smile, pride evident in his eyes. "Smart. Yes, my boy—it is."
Ryker's grip on the scroll tightened, his gaze unwavering. "I promise I'll do my best to live up to it. I'll master it beyond what is possible and make you proud. I won't bring disgrace to you or our family."
Aiden observed his son with a rare softness. Though his demeanor was often stern, the pride he felt in this moment was unmistakable. "I trust you will, Ryker. Go now—you've earned the right to bear this technique, and you know what must be done."
With a deep bow of respect, Ryker turned and strode confidently out of the hall, the golden scroll in his hands gleaming faintly under the light.
As Ryker made his way through the corridors of the Phoenix Clan's inner sanctum, his thoughts centered on the technique he now held. The Crimson Dominion Sword Technique wasn't merely a family heirloom—it was a testament to generations of brilliance, a symbol of the Phoenix Clan's dominance in the way of the sword.
He knew mastering it wouldn't be easy, even for someone like him, but he welcomed the challenge. To him, every hardship was a stepping stone, every obstacle an opportunity to grow stronger.
Reaching his private chamber, Ryker unfurled the scroll carefully, the golden inscriptions glowing faintly as if alive. The moment he opened it, a wave of knowledge washed over him, his mind struggling to grasp the immense complexity of the technique. The words and diagrams etched onto the scroll seemed to shimmer and shift, their meanings buried deep within layers of wisdom.
Ryker closed his eyes, calming his thoughts. He knew he would need complete focus to unlock the secrets of the Crimson Dominion Sword Technique. He inhaled deeply, his breath steadying as he prepared to dive into the pages before him
The first page of the manual unveiled the foundation of the Crimson Dominion Sword Technique: the Infernal Sovereign Slash. Boldly inscribed at the top of the page were the words, "With one will, one sweep, the fire obeys…"
The phrase reverberated in Ryker's mind, its simplicity and weight carrying an undeniable authority. It was a command, a decree that spoke to the essence of the technique—a single, decisive stroke that bent the will of fire itself to the swordmaster's command.
Beneath the inscription lay detailed diagrams illustrating the precise movements required to execute the slash. The level of detail was astonishing, far exceeding Ryker's expectations. The illustrations didn't just depict the general motion—they demonstrated the technique down to the most intricate muscle contractions, the precise shifts in weight, and the optimal angle of each stroke. Every element was meticulously documented, as if the original creator had etched their very essence into the manual.
Ryker poured over the first page, his sharp mind absorbing every line, every detail, as if committing it all to memory was an instinct rather than a conscious effort. The Infernal Sovereign Slash was deceptively simple: a single stroke. Yet that simplicity was its true brilliance—a single movement that encapsulated devastating power.
As he imagined it, the slash was not merely an attack. It was judgment itself, an embodiment of authority that scorched all in its path. With this stroke, the wielder wasn't just fighting; they were passing sentence like a flame-wielding sovereign, burning through anything that dared defy them.
Ryker was awestruck. To think such overwhelming power could be condensed into a single motion was beyond anything he'd encountered before. Yet it made sense. This was the Crimson Dominion Sword Technique—a manual born with the technique of a supreme existence as the foundation. To call it extraordinary would be an insult.
He closed the manual gently, his fingers trembling slightly, though not with fear—with excitement. His heart pounded in his chest as the realization hit him: mastering this would be no ordinary task. Yet, in his mind, there was no doubt. This was his destiny.
Taking a deep breath, Ryker steadied himself. The first step was before him, and he would take it. One will. One sweep. He would make the fire obey.